


It Must Go

by Ozymanreis



Series: 30 Day Sheriarty Challenge [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Banter, Beards, Beards (Facial Hair), Facial Shaving, M/M, Moriarty is Alive, Shaving, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:05:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8335567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozymanreis/pseuds/Ozymanreis
Summary: Sherlock should've known the beard was a bad idea.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2: Beard

**I’m coming for it.**

 

Sherlock hadn’t given much thought to that ominous note. He got strange things like that all the time after his so-called “fan club” became a thing. Though, even if the one who sent it was inconsequential, he had to wonder: what was “it?”

About a week later, Sherlock wakes to a buzzing. Too close to his face- _what?_ He jolts up, eyes searching wildly in the darkness.

“Careful, sweetheart, I almost nicked your jaw there.” A familiar Irish voice drawls from his right. Sherlock looks, squints. Sees an outline that looks suspiciously like a dead criminal, “It can’t be…” Sherlock whispers, grabbing at the shape. His hand curls around Jim’s arm, tugging him close. Yes. It has to be, he knows that smell anywhere.

“Really, be careful.” The buzzing stops, Jim waves the electric razor around, “That was still on.”

“Moriarty.” Sherlock begins, feeling a confusing rage bubble up in him, “Do tell me, and try not to take this the wrong way…” He inhaled, letting go, leaning over and flipping gone his bedside lamp, “How the fuck are you alive?”

“Right to the point, I see.” Jim hums, “You’re not even going to ask why I’m shaving your beard off?”

“My what?” Sherlock blinks, palm flying to his face, noticing that half of it _did_ feel smoother than it had… and the other side was covered in a fine layer of shaving cream. “You… came from the dead… broke into my room… after years of _nothing…_ to shave my face?”

“Sherlock, let’s be realistic.” Jim smirks, the slightest wrinkle by his eyes betraying a deeper sadness, “After seeing that monstrosity… how could I _not_ rise from the grave?”

“And you were just going to… _leave?_ When you were done?”

“Isn’t that so like a man?”

“I suddenly understand John’s urge to punch me in the face a few years ago.” Sherlock rolls his eyes, laying back, figuring he might as well not look lopsided tomorrow, “Proceed, but when you’re done, we’re going to talk about appropriate entrances.”

“Pun intended?”

“Shut up.”


End file.
